


Better Than Fine

by Maxegirl1313



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxegirl1313/pseuds/Maxegirl1313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beauty and the beast, people call them. He falters in his step and she shuts them up with a single icy look. An odd couple if there ever was one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Fine

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to say about this. I love Kirk, I really do, but he was in the wrong when it came to dear Cupcake (or Michael Giotto as he has been named here). I would love some feedback on this. The second part should be posted (hopefully) soon. Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. The title is taken from the wonderful Fiona Apple song Waltz (Better Than Fine).

Uhura is fast and smooth and _sharp_ and it seems like Michael just won't ever be able to keep up. He feels slow, big, and clumsy around her. He's never been a masochist or particularly enjoyed being humiliated, but he finds himself unable to stop seeking her out at every given opportunity. For every blush, stumble, and averted eyes, Michael can't help but think that the few times they connected, eyes locked and understanding almost _flowing_ between them, makes it beyond worth it.

Like when he stood behind her line at the administration office.

He had stumbled in, tired and not in the mood for filing goddamn off-planet immunizations, but his grandfather had once told him _do as your told and you'll be alright_ and he had found that advice pretty solid thus far.

He quickly glanced up before awkwardly and somewhat pointedly _not_ staring at the young woman in front of him. She was tall and thin and absolutely stunning. He had seen her around campus, always walking with a confident and collected stride that Michael knew someone like him would never be able master. Whenever he saw her he always torn between envy and admiration. Michael will, if pressed, admit that perhaps he has a bit of a crush on her. He also knew that she had to deal with jackasses who didn't want to take no for an answer, and despite knowing that he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with her, his heart ached at the idea of being thought of like that.

Uhura had been arguing with the Yeoman at the front desk. When he dared to glance over at her, she was poised like a snake-- dangerous and ready to strike.

"I'm just not sure why I'm required to take an introductory course for a language I'm clearly proficient in!" Her voice was irate and annoyed, yet almost melodical in its cadence. The Yeoman looked at her with a clearly fixed smile on her face, a twitch at her mouth clearly belying her irritation.

Uhura shot an absent glance back at him. He was startled to realize that beneath the cool exterior, she was _amused_ at the disgruntled Yeoman.

"Now, listen here, missy. You clearly signed up for this class! It's a class almost all first-year linguistic focus take!" the Yeoman sounded sharp and harassed. "Why wouldn't you list yourself as proficient if you are?" she demanded almost confidently, seemingly glad at having a legitimate argument.

At this Uhura seemed to be almost sheepish. It was so odd to see anything but collected on her face, that Giotto couldn't look away. It made her seem-- softer. Younger. Like she was just a beyond-clever first-year cadet instead of the unflappable woman he had seen so often. Uhura cleared her throat before speaking.

"Well, I saw it was on the course list and decided to study a bit before the semester," Her voice was placid and calm, like she was willing the Yeoman to understand. Giotto could only speak for himself, of course, but he thought it worked rather well. "I bought the textbook and studied."

The Yeoman rolled her eyes, muttering _over-achiever_ under her breath. Giotto saw Uhura carefully suppress a smirk. "And I learned the language." The Yeoman's mouth fell open. She looked disbelieving. Uhura continued before she could say anything.

"It wasn't really complicated. There was _no_ irregular anything so it one of the simplest languages I ever learned." She seemed to fall back into complete confidence as soon as her ability was brought into play. If nothing else, she was sure of herself.

The Yeoman sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes. "Prove to the professor you're proficient and I'll see what I can do about putting you in... What was it you wanted? Vulcan?" Giotto rocked back on his heels, impressed. He heard Vulcan was a bitch to learn. Uhura nodded.

The Yeoman sighed again. "Alright then, cadet. Next!" Giotto unconsciously moved out of the way for her. Uhura straightened herself up, and brushed past him with a wink. His mouth fell open.

"Stop staring and get a move on!" The Yeoman snapped. Giotto carefully allowed to himself to hope that maybe he had more of a chance with her than he thought.

 

* * *

 

They only really become _friends_ after what Giotto has dubbed "The Great Kirk Debacle". He hadn't—well, he hadn't thinking rationally in terms of what Uhura would want right then. Kirk had reminded him so much of his stupid, drunk father right then that his actions probably went beyond his defense of Uhura, if he was being honest.

He had watched his Mama take more than she should ever have to, all because she wanted her babies to grow up with their daddy, unlike she and her brothers did.

Rationally he knew Uhura could take care of herself. In fact, she was probably the toughest person he knew. But, in that moment, that hadn't mattered. She had said leave and he hadn't, and someone as special as her should never even have to deal with someone like him.

So he had fought. Used his fists instead of his words. _The worst possible thing I could have done to impress a communications cadet_ , Giotto thought miserably. He was sulking now, outside the bar, sitting on the cold ground and leaning on a grimy brick wall somewhat despondently. The sharp click of heels caused him to automatically look up.

It was Uhura, of course. She _was_ a communications cadet, after all, and he bet that she would have no trouble verbally eviscerating him if that was what she so wished to do. Instead, she simply leaned on the wall beside him, his shoulders almost brushing her legs.

The silence went on for a near unbearable amount of time.

He opened his mouth-- to apologize, to justify himself, to _something_ but she cut him off before he could get a word out.

"I don't approve of how you handled things today," she started, her voice letting him know just how much she _didn't approve_. He flinched and couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

"And I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." her voice was sharp and he was sure her mouth was drawn into a taut, flat line. There was another beat of silence before

"However, I wanted to say thanks." He risked looking up at her. She offered him a small, sincere smile. He returned it and it never once occurred to him to do otherwise. "He was being a jackass. But you outnumbered him and that's never fair," She sounded almost scolding. Sighing, she met his eyes unflinchingly.

"Don't do it again, okay?" Giotto nodded his consent. He was generally a fair fighter and four against one was really just kind of dick-ish.

Nodding in a satisfied manner, she pushed herself off the wall and offered him a hand up. He took it, albeit somewhat doubtfully. She couldn't be more than 120 pounds. He easily had 100 pounds on her, all of it muscle. To his shock, she pulled him up almost gracefully. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman who looked so delicate. Unthinkingly he blurted out:

"Hey, would you like to grab some coffee sometime?" Giotto was instantly horrified. What the hell did he just do?

Against all odds and reasoning, she smirked. "Yeah, okay. But let’s make it drinks. I barely had time to try _anything_ before you got us all kicked out."

His mouth had opened and then shut abruptly with an audible snap. She was one surprise after another. "You got it, Uhura."

She smiled. "Please, as misaimed as it was, you still attempted to defend my honor," She sounded awfully wry about it and Giotto considered whether or not he should be embarrassed. "I think you deserve to call me by my first name."

He stared at her in something akin to shock. Everyone called her Uhura, and as embarrassing as it was to admit, he hadn't actually considered that she would have a first name.

"Just call me Nyota."

 

* * *

 

After discovering that Kirk was indeed going to the academy and that both Cupcake (and you know what? _Fuck_ Jim Kirk for making everyone call him that. Lately it seemed only Nyota remembered his name.) _Michael_ and Nyota find something to commiserate and bitch about. It's not the most noble way to become friends with someone, but it sure is an effective one.

It started out as them mostly drinking together. Nyota earned his respect right away in the relative ease that she drinks him under the table. These nights consist mostly of giggling and fun. They mock anything and everything that reaches their line of view and have the time of their lives doing it.

Eventually they move on to coffee together in the morning after, agreeing that if Michael brought the hypos than Nyota would buy the drinks. They sat in relative quietness and ease, both clutching the cups close to them (Nyota takes her coffee completely black, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Michael prefers cream and sugar and lots of it), occasionally commenting something to each other, trying to make the other laugh.

By the middle of second semester they end up studying together, Michael mispronouncing Vulcan words just to get a laugh out of Nyota, and Nyota reading up on tactics and strategies and somehow managing to make a war-based, very complicated version of tic-tac-toe just to help him study.

His friends think it’s puppy love. They thinly veil their thoughts through jokes and asides, and he tries not to take it personally. Beauty and The Beast, they call out when they see Nyota and him walking down the corridors or across the field. He falters a bit in his step, and with sharp eyes Nyota pulls him along, simultaneously quieting the laughing bunch with one look.

"You shouldn't listen to them," Nyota tells him seriously once they reached the mess. He sighs deeply. Nyota is one of the most observant and understanding people, human or alien, he has ever met, but this is something that she will never understand. Someone as smart and graceful and capable as her will never know the ache of friends mocking or the follow of a snigger behind your back.

 She scowls as if she knows what he's thinking. Knowing Nyota, she probably does. Ungracefully he tries to change the subject to a barb about Kirk's slutiness, spying the cadet sitting a few tables over with his doctor friend, but Nyota is having none of it.

"You're my best friend, Michael," His moth falls open in a delighted shock. She was his best friend, hands down, but Nyota was clever and talented and _beautiful_ while Michael was... not. She looked at him a bit expectantly, and with a start, he realized she was waiting on a reply.

"God, Nyota, of course you're my best friend," He hastily blurted. She smiled in an oddly self-satisfied way that he had had learned she would refuse to explain, and that it was best to just not question her. Leaning back in her chair, it seemed there was nothing more to be said.

Life somehow got even better. It was like admitting their friendship opened some gate. Nyota now told him everything, including her attempts at seducing one Professor Spock.

"They've been something less than successful," She admitted in an audibly embarrassed tone. Micheal could not repress his smile. Nyota wasn't used to not achieving whatever it was she set her mind to. While generally this was mostly just impressive to him, it could also be kind of irritating. It was a bit fun to see her really have to work at something.

After several more weeks of Nyota relaying her failed flirting techniques, he dragged her out for a drink. Nyota drunk was something else-- she tended to get super wordy (albeit articulate) before just smiling and giggling at everything. Michael just tended to just get smiley and very, very, uncoordinated.

"Michael," Nyota said suddenly, jumping up from what had been a thoughtful silence of them both deciding what drink to order next, oblivious to the fact that the waiter had left a good three minutes beforehand, tired of their general incoherency.

Michael looked up at her while struggling to focus his eyes. "Yes?"

Nyota looked at his in an overly seriously way. "You should date. Have fun. My roomate Gaila thinks your impressive physical stature would - and I quote- ' _Provide a liberating sexual experience for all involved_ " Nyota collapsed in giggles, and Michael almost compulsively followed suit. Once the laughter had died down, he tried to answer her.

"Nyota," He hiccuped. "Nyota, she's Orion right?"

"Yeah. So?" Her eyes narrowed instantly and her posture was suddenly very aggressive. "Are you xenophobic?" Her voice was like ice. Micheal was suddenly grateful for the fact that this was the first time he was on the receiving end of such ire.

"No, no," He hastily explained, clumsy tongue tripping over his words. "It's just that-- that she'd only want some fun for a night Nyota," He sighed deeply, staring earnestly at her, willing her to understand.

"I'm not a one-night guy." Her eyes seemed to visibly soften, and she reached out to touch his hair.

"I know you’re not," Her voice was gentler that he'd ever heard.

"I'd make a fucking f _antastic_ boyfriend," He added in a tone of self-righteousness that only people thoroughly intoxicated could really achieve. She seemed to scrutinize him for a bit, her hand never leaving his head, eyes pouring over his flushed face. Her hand was warm and dry and obnoxiously steady, Michael thought.

"I know you would, Michael," She said at long-last, sliding her hand down to cup his face briefly before sliding off completely. Her tone was appraising and confident.

Michael drunkenly considered that maybe she really did.


End file.
